


Cathedral of Bones

by twentyfourshreds



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Canon-Typical Irreverence towards Life, Canon-Typical Violence, Citadel of Ricks, Gen, Narcissism, i dunno, this was just an exercise for EM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyfourshreds/pseuds/twentyfourshreds
Summary: He relishes in his newly-gained power as the leader of the Citadel.
Kudos: 3





	Cathedral of Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Take this from my hands, its been living too long in my account data.

It was quiet. The quiet that was as if the universe itself held its breath. The light gleamed through the window. It passed through the colours, yellows and blues and reds, mostly reds. It was a story, panes of glass that held a long brutal history in the saudered metals, illuminating him with primary streaks. If he could feel impressed, he would have been, the cybernetic eye calculated the lumens and structural integrity of the massive pane, it was perfect.

He gazed coolly at the window, following his history from the day it all began up to the proud visage sitting beneath the apex of the arching stone. The cold eyes watched over the story and the onlooker.

He was a saint, immortalised in hand-dyed glass, a god among men and he smiled. His own face looked back at him from underneath the titanic tale, not twisted with a smile, but carved with lines of anxiety and worry. The visage of the old man joined it, equally as vexed but the lines made the skin only seem tired. His smile was warm and inviting, his eye displayed every conceivable speck of information on the two forms before him, and he nodded to the two. He tried not to laugh as he saw the two visibility deflate as they watched his slow, calm nod turn his head up and down only once.

"Very impressive, you two, you really noted of every speck of blood I mentioned. I'll certainly treat you both to something special. Come." He pivoted on his heel and began walking to his left, the pair scrabbled to follow behind, the alternate iteration of himself fumbling with the knot of his tie.

The distance was short, filled only with the sharp _tak-tak-tak_ of his heel and the gentle shuffling of cloth as the three came to a plain wooden door. He opened it beckoning the two inside. It was his private study, and he sat himself down, watching the two as they took places across the desk.

"You two have really impressed me, I was- no- I am floored by your craftsmanship and quality that you have provided me. In exchange for this excellence, I will bestow two circumstances. One: you will never have to work a day in your lives-- excellence will be met with excellence. Two: as you must know, my history is not one to be told and having physically recreated it, you must understand it is unpleasant in every conceivable meaning. So, you would benefit greatly from this..." He pulled out a compact shooter, two vials and a marker. The eyes of the old man went wide and quickly narrowed. He knew.

He casually prepared the gun and aimed it at the copy of his face, "You know, you'll thank me when you die satisfied and calm."

He pulled the trigger and light bathed the young face. The old man closed his eyes slowly and waited as searing pain and then nothingness enveloped him.

The shimmering window bathed him in multitudes of colours as he picked a piece of scalp from his lapel and flicked it into the long darkness of the hall. His satisfactory gaze that roamed the artwork made him predatory in his small stature. He smiled, and it was horrifying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
